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Chapter Two: The night ends with a bang
Ted's point of view
Friday dawned warm and bright. After showering and dressing for a busy day, I walked out of the house into the vineyard. The trellises covered in grape vines ran in neat rows for acres. The netting we used to keep the birds at bay, fluttered slowly in the breeze. I stopped at the first row and drew in a deep breath. The smell was sweet and earthy. The vines here in the city of Spring, just north of Houston, were much younger than the main vineyard near Bend, north of Austin in the Texas Hill country. I had planted and nurtured these vines myself.
My father had turned the private vineyard his father and grandfather cultivated near Bend into a commercial enterprise but had never seen the success he dreamed of. The laws that hedged the winemaking industry in Texas had made it very hard to make a profit and had not really changed since the repeal of Prohibition. These laws restricted everything from the hours we could have wine tastings to forcing vintners to sell mostly through distributors rather than directly to stores or via mail order. If a store sold a bottle of wine for fifteen dollars, they had bought it from the distributor for nine. That distributor paid the winemaker only five and a half dollars; it cost about four bucks to make, bottle and prepare the wine. The way to make a small fortune in winemaking in Texas was to start with a large fortune. The laws were changing, though. I wish my father and mother had lived to see it. Now we could sell via mail to anywhere in the country. The hours were better for tastings and we could advertise more openly and effectively.
The entire time we three kids grew up, my father worked hard to change the laws in Texas and draw people in to the winery. Every weekend there were concerts, events and free tastings. Stan now handled that. He just has a way with people that I could never manage. There were two classes of people for Stan: friends and friends he had not yet met.
Sue was the same as Stan - with a bubbly, outgoing personality. She is the baby of the family; five years younger than me and three younger than Stan. I could see Mom in her, vibrant and beautiful. She, her husband Leo, and their herd of kids lived in the Hill Country running Stansbury's main vineyard. It was larger, by far, and as much as I loved it, I loved this field more.
I tilted my head and looked at the dark grapes on the vine closest to me. They were almost ready - full and lush. The small, dark Spanish grapes hung in clusters of sweet promise. We would start the picking in a week or so, I decided. Then these grapes would be crushed along with grapes from Bend and some imported from California to be mixed and fermented into Stansbury wines. The rich juice would ferment for eighteen months in barrels, then we would bottle it and let it age for another year before it was ready to sell.
I walked back past the house and went to the large adobe building next to it. The eighteen inch thick walls made the dim interior into an above ground cave - cool even in the heat of summer. The interior walls were lined with barrels and casks of wine fermenting in the cool 72 degrees. The lifeblood of this vineyard sat here enshrined deep in the smell of rich oak.
The wood felt rough beneath my hand and the heady smell of the wood pulled me, as it always did. I drew some wine from one of the casks into a tasting glass and put my nose to the opening to breathe in its aroma. The fruity smell of the wine filled my senses. I moved the glass and watched the thick liquid roll. A sip into my mouth and the complex flavor of the wine reminded me of the lady in blue drinking wine in the club.
The last two days had been a mixture of growing eagerness and apprehension for me. Stan had been all for me going back, as I knew he would be. He had been a pest these last two days. Every conversation had one destination, one ultimate purpose - the mysterious lady in the blue dress and her lush, creamy thigh.
I had to admit that she preyed on my thoughts. I found myself standing and thinking about her at the oddest times. I decided that it must have been too long since I had dated if a stranger could focus my thoughts this way. What did I know about her? Nothing, except she had an exceptional way of drinking wine...
I knew I was going back even before I started my car outside the club that night. Not that I would give Stan the satisfaction of telling him my head had been turned so quickly. I'd never hear the end of it.
Pouring the wine that remained into the spitting bucket, I decided that I needed to stop thinking about this evening. I had to run back into Houston to meet with a state lawmaker and discuss the next big push - the repeal of the law that banned winemakers from owning a store that sold wine or selling direct to people that did. Others had been instrumental in prior changes that were opening new vistas to me and my fellow vintners, but I was going to bust it wide open. Texas could be as big a producer as California if the State would just open its eyes to the opportunity. The California industry was older and ten times more lucrative, but that could be narrowed. It brought 1.2 billion dollars into California's coffers and only 130 million here. We could do better.
Walking back into the house, I stepped into a kitchen that, though modern, felt as homey as one fifty years old. The makings for a breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast and coffee were soon spread out.
The scent of cooking bacon drew Stan out from his bedroom and still in his pajamas. He looked half asleep, his hair a crime against humanity.
"Morning, Ted," he yawned as he sat at the table. "Well, it's the big day. Are you going to commit?"
With a shake of my head, I laughed and forked the bacon from the pan, cracked a couple of eggs and dumped them into the skillet.
"You're implacable, Stan. You'd think this was someone you are interested in. Speaking of someone - what about Dina? Are you going back to see her tonight? I will if you will."
With a boyish grin, he nodded. "You have a deal, big brother. Are you still seeing de la Cruz today?"
I set a cup of coffee and his plate in front of him then started prepping my own. The smells made my stomach growl. Breakfast was the best meal of the day.
When I finally sat down and sipped the smooth Columbian coffee, I nodded.
"Yep. Not that I expect to get a commitment out of him. The distributor's lobby has oodles of cash to throw at him to try and keep the stranglehold going. Still, I think we can chip away at him though. The numbers are really convincing and they will have to come around, sooner or later."
We chatted over the details of the weekend plans. He had a bluegrass band on for the weekend tasting. I thought it sounded like another blast. No doubt he would draw in hundreds of people on Sunday. Not a million visitors a year, but it will do for now.
As he ambled off to get showered, I cleaned up the kitchen and then got on the road.
The drive into Houston was slow and crowded along the I45 corridor but I had talk radio programs to keep me updated on the world's events. The parking around Representative Ramon de la Cruz's office was crowded as usual. It took three trips around the block to find a place to park.
On the way into the building, I ran into Ken Price, one of the lobbyists for the distribution industry. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say he ran into me. He was that kind of fellow. I managed to not grimace as he smirked at me.
"Ted Stansbury, what a surprise seeing you here. I was just telling Ramon that I hadn't seen you in weeks." Name-dropping bastard.
